


When Jester wasn’t there to answer the door

by freakyfangirl3307



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, My thoughts on what could have happened if THAT scene in 2x118 went a bit differently, Rating for minor language stuff, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:07:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27942731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakyfangirl3307/pseuds/freakyfangirl3307
Summary: In the blistering winds of Eiselcross, Jester asked a question, and participated in an exchange. Fjord worked up the courage to knock on Jester’s door that evening. But what if Jester had gone to seek another’s advice, and wasn’t there to answer the door?
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 4
Kudos: 73





	When Jester wasn’t there to answer the door

**Author's Note:**

> Notes/minor disclaimers at the end :)

It was not a sudden realization. Jester’s incessant flirting had waned over the past months, and while her initial words had sounded childish to him, the lack thereof was jarring. Fjord missed it. Then came the little moments, where Jester’s light shone so bright it blinded him, even through closed eyelids. She was, indeed, very charming. Hard not to enjoy her company, really.

So when he saw her, frozen in the middle of those stone statues, his world stopped. What is a world without her smile, her laugh, her brightness? Her constant joy that had helped tear him away from the darkness that was his past?

But she came out of it. Shocked, scared, changed, but alive. And then the fear came. The bitter winds of Eiselcross tore through his winter coat, but his body was too warm. The adrenaline that typically came with a fight kicked in, and he began triaging. Gathering information that had cost too much. All the while, in the back of his mind: “I could have lost you.” and “I have to keep you close.” and “I need to tell you how dear you are to me.” So he began rehearsing.

Words had always come easy to him, but there was too much he wanted to say. “I promised your mother I would protect you.” “I don’t want to see you throwing yourself into danger.” “I want to keep you close and never let go.” How far is too far? It took longer than he expected after dinner and the evening’s events and interrogations to properly finalize what he wanted to say. It was the fear in the pit of his stomach that allowed him to spend only a brief few seconds considering what Jester’s response to his declarations would be. Fear, and perhaps a lack of doubt about her response.

Fjord made his way up to the bedroom floors of the tower, and he knocked on her door. “Jester?”

There was no response. He waited for a breath and a half, face hot, and head down, then knocked again. “Jester, are you in there?”

He waited for another minute or so, resisting the desperate curiosity. Is she in there and just didn’t want to see him? That wasn’t true was it? But if not, where could she be?

…

After Jester left the tower’s dining area, she went directly to her bathroom. Without looking in the mirror, she carefully shrugged the layers of her winter clothes off and daintily folded them beside her. One at a time. They felt different on her now, somehow wrong. Once they were all removed, Jester slowly brought her eyes up, and made eye contact with herself in the mirror. Moving slowly, she traced the lines of her face. The difference between one’s early twenties and their late twenties isn’t a lot, especially for blue tieflings with pretty rockin’ genetics. It is, however, a lot to see at once.

Her horns were indeed ¾ of an inch longer than they were. She pulled at her hairline, checking for… yes. There they were. A smattering of shimmering silver hairs interspersed with the blue. Not too many, just a couple on each side, but noticeable to her. Her fingers traced down her face. Some of her remaining baby fat had gone—she finally saw her mama’s cheekbones on her own face, and there was also something in her more defined jawline that reminded her of the Gentleman. There were, in addition to the cheekbones, lines on her face for the first time. The tiniest of crows feet, some smile lines around her mouth. Those… those would take some getting used to.

Her hands moved downward, poking and prodding at the skin of her collarbones and down her arms. Her skin feels different. Less hydrated, less springy. Older. Her breasts were fuller, perhaps her hips were as well, but everything just… off. Unrecognizable, even to an artist’s touch.

Her fingers stopped prodding and started scratching, itchy in a blink. _This skin, this body, is not really mine. It belongs to some older woman, who just looks exactly like me._

The panic came not just from the change in her body—it also came from the loss of what she could have done with all that time.

_How many pranks won’t be pranked because I lost the years that I was going to do them? What if my brain is different too, and that this new future Jester brain, when it catches up, won’t love painting, and dicks, and pranks? What if the Traveller doesn’t bother with me anymore, decides I’ve changed and I’m not fun enough? I got my statue question answered, but how much am I going to lose? Oh... Traveller. What if the Nein only kept me around for my smile, my sunshine? Will I lose that?_

_This will pass. This feeling has to pass._

She found herself curled on the bathroom floor, staring into nothing, eyes aching with unshed tears. In half a moment, she was on her feet, groaning with new pains, and grabbing a nightgown and robe. Not her usual, ostentatiously and horrendously pink ones, but a peach-ish set. She stared around at her room, at the winter clothes she’d paid a fortune for, at the corner of the secret Nicodranas painting on the canopy over her bed, and even that felt wrong somehow.

_Imposter._

She picked up her sketchbook, but couldn’t find it in herself to open it. What could she say to the Traveller: “Hi Artie, guess what, I just lost five years and I’ll never get them back. I had really great plans for all of my time on the earth and now I’ve lost part of that. I’m still here but I’ve lost part of me. I’m haunted by what the statues gave me and what they took. I can’t get the image of what they showed out of my head, and I’m afraid to show any of my friends anything less than my best new smile because that’s all they need from me.” Yeah, that conversation would go well.

The Traveller wouldn’t understand. No one could. Except… someone who had lost years themselves.

She found herself at Caleb’s door.

…

Caleb couldn’t deny that he appreciated what age had done for Jester’s appearance. She had always been a beautiful woman, but now it was shockingly apparent. He had foolishly blurted that out twice too many times upon the discovery of this change, this loss, as well. But it’s something that she needed reinforced, because gods she’s young—so young—and five years at that age is fifteen for anyone else. Not that he would know, he’d lost that time too.

She seemed fine, though distressed at first, and was back to her cheerful self in short order. The rest of the Nein followed her lead, and all seemed well throughout dinner. Caleb was not keeping a closer eye on Jester throughout dinner, he wasn’t. And he couldn’t help but notice that, whenever Jester thought there weren’t any eyes on her, her eyes went dark. Her smile became increasingly hollow as the meal progressed, and she departed quickly. Caleb’s ever-sharp mind immediately reminded him that this was Jester’s facade cracking, just as it had done after the Iron Shepherds. Her steps, as she moved away from the tables, were fragile too, as if she wasn’t sure she could rely on her own feet.

He bid his own goodbyes to the remaining members of the group shortly afterward. He had research to do. For someone as full of life as Jester to lose her youth, her confidence in herself, to be haunted so deeply from the actions taken in the blink of an eye… he knew there had to be a way to reverse it, he just needed to figure out how. Of all the arcane tomes he’d devoured during his early days at the Academy, of all the snippets and scrolls he’d glanced through on the road or in random bookshops, something had to have the answer. He just needed to find it.

In the back of his mind, he was reminded: _To show her you love her, but never say it._

“Georg, Cinnamon, Pancake, Rickon, please gather all the compatriots you can, and bring me all research in this tower that may include information on powerful restorative spells accessible to an arcane caster such as, ah, yours truly. Thank you.” The cats nodded in understanding and padded off in search of Caleb’s requested materials.

It was but a few minutes before a parade of amber-colored cats came back through the cat-flaps, each one carrying a tome, a scroll, or a report. Once the cats placed their selections near the small desk in the corner, they disappeared back through the cat-flaps, and Caleb settled down to work. _It will be a long night of research, Ermendrud. Buckle in._

Caleb, after no more than twenty one and a half minutes, was broken out of his research reverie by a quiet, brisk knock at the door. “Caleb?” Jester’s voice whispered.

 _Ah, sheisse. Jester. What could she possibly want from the tower’s resident eccentric and broken old man? What could she possibly want that I have?_ “Coming.” Caleb quickly closed and stacked the research materials behind him, and opened the door a crack.

She stood in the doorway with doll-like eyes. Glassy and empty. Her body was slouched, nothing like the confident woman from this morning. She didn’t say a word.

“Ah, Jester. What can I do for you?” She shrugged, looking hollowly past Caleb’s shoulder. A smile flashed across her lips, but not for long. It was a cruel and empty smile, a smile found much more commonly on his own face than on hers. Jester’s facade had finally broken.

It wasn’t that long ago that that hollow look had been plastered on his own face. The Nein had not been together that long. Before them, Caleb had been a cruel and empty man. He knew those eyes, and he knew that smile. Because not long ago that he’d woken up in the sanatorium and realized that he’d lost eleven precious years of life, of learning, of youth. Of pain and suffering and truth and forgiveness. Those eleven years of his would not have been good ones, with the ripples of Ikithon’s effect reverberating, but he still ached with that loss. That loss for Jester, who had so much good, so much passion, so much enthusiasm...five of her years were worth fifty of his.

They stood together in the doorway, living their individual losses, for just over three minutes. Caleb, eventually, shook himself. _None of that matters, Ermendrud. She’s here because she knows you’ve experienced something similar. She needs a friend that shares this._

He cleared his throat, voice hoarse with disuse or emotion. “Please, Jester, come in. I have...ah...another story for you. Not a children’s tale this time, but I believe it still has a good ending.”

A faint knocking floated up from the floor below, followed by Fjord’s quiet call of “Jester.” Caleb raised his eyebrows at her, locking eyes with her for the first time since her arrival at his door. Meeting her, hollow stare to hollow stare. She shrugged, shook her head, and moved forward into Caleb’s room, taking her seat on the couch. It hadn’t been too many days since he’d read _Der Katenprinz_ to her, but it seemed like eons now.

Jester looked up from the couch, patting the space next to her. “Fjord, you know… he just wouldn’t really understand. I don’t want to explain it to him. I know I don’t really understand either, and I’m really confused about what I saw today, and what’s going to happen now that I’m… like this.” She gestured to her changed face. “But I don’t think I can talk to him about it without it seeming...childish. You know?”

Caleb nodded, and sat down. They stared off in companionable silence for thirty seven seconds, until he began telling Jester his own story. She’s heard most of it before, but not in order and not all at once. He didn’t skip over anything, but he did spend the most time on his time in the sanatorium, and the time that immediately followed. To share with her how it felt for him, to let her know that feeling the loss of that time was normal. Halfway through his story, her hands started shaking. Steeling himself with a breath, he wrapped his long fingers over hers. She was very cold, he could share his warmth.

Jester looked at him, eyes wide, still innocent, but with an incredible intent on deciphering something. “The change is hard and it’s shocking, Jester, and I’m sorry you must deal with it. I know you must feel wrong, uncomfortable in your own skin and unsure about everything around you.” If he was not holding her hands, he would be scratching his arms.

She nodded, and cleared her throat. “That is...yes. That’s part of it, I think? I know it sounds weird, but I think I might be mourning? Like… all I can think about are all of the things that I could have done with that time. And if losing it will change me enough that no one will like me enough to keep me around anymore. What if the Nein and the Traveller get sick of the new, old me?”

Caleb squeezed her fingers. “These are fair concerns. But no, getting sick of you, at the very least, is impossible. I refuse to speak for the rest of the Nein or your god but I swear I could never get sick of you. And if I did speak for them, they would say the same. You’re the group’s smile, Jester, but you’re also its heart. Its soul. You’re an incredibly powerful woman who can play tricks on and kick the asses of incredibly powerful creatures. I would fo-- hmmm.”

“Yes, Caleb?”

“Ah, well… I would follow you anywhere. I trust your judgement. You see the world and everyone in it in a unique light, and it is incredible to behold. I-- we are lucky to have you. It is difficult not to lo-- care for you, no matter who you grow into. And I will strive to ensure your days for the foreseeable future are filled with enough adventure and entertainment to make up for the lost ones. I can enlist the Chaos Crew to assist.” A wry grin appeared at the corner of his mouth, just for a second.

Jester looked down at her hands, completely enveloped by Caleb’s. They’re no longer shaking.

“And that is the short-term. I swear on my spellbook and on your holy symbol that I will do everything in my power to get the time back for you, to restore the years you’ve lost. I have already begun the research.” Caleb gestured back to the stack of pages and books spilling across the desk.

The ghost of a furrowed brow passed across Jester’s face, then something that resembled a smile. She sighed, then took a deep, stuttering breath. “Caleb, as your first act of helping me... will you please make your room look like Hupperdook, like you did while we were eating the other day?” 

Three seconds passed as Caleb swallowed the request, then nodded. “Uhhh… _ja_ , of course.” He used _major illusion_ to again replicate Hupperdook’s tavern as closely as possible—with the exception of the fireworks. Some sparks were of pink dicks and green cloaks, some were red books and orange cats. There were some multicolored cats wearing cloaks, or playing with dicks. And there was a single book with a small dick in the corner of the page. The page for the spell “Friends.”

Jester’s eyes lit up the tiniest bit watching the animated illusion, and Caleb couldn’t help but admire how the illusory fireworks sparked and crackled in her eyes. A sudden courage gripped him as he pulled Jester to her feet. “As my second act of assistance, Jester… I would like us to revisit the waltz. So you can enjoy a dance with an individual who does not have two left feet, and who is not more booze than man, and know that you are still just as capable and as erapturing as you were those many months ago.”

A giggle escaped from Jester’s lips, and he could see her again, putting together the pieces and cautiously probing the new shape of the world. Caleb inclined his head to his dance partner, and she pulled his arms into the dance’s starting position. Caleb, with a nod to the tower surrounding them, started the music as the steps began. They danced in companionable silence for precisely eight minutes and twelve seconds, gazing contentedly at the illusion around them and at their dance partner before them. Caleb tried to avoid looking at Jester too closely, but he couldn’t help but notice a darker purple flush high on her cheeks. A trick, perhaps, or a product of the surrounding illusion.

On that thirteenth second of the ninth minute, Jester shifted her hand from cupping his shoulder to looping around his neck, and removed her hand from his, only to wrap it around his waist. Her head now rested plainly on his chest, directly over his fast-beating heart.

“You know, Caleb, you’re pretty okay for being a stinky wizard.”

Caleb froze, but only for a second. His arms moved to hold her in a light embrace, their bodies fitting together like a slightly-fractured puzzle. The dancers just started to sway in place. “Ah, I would like to think so. Okay is good. You know, you will be alright Blueberry.”

With her head to his chest, Caleb could make out her quiet words, and the true smile on her face: “It will take time, I think. And help. But I hope so.” She paused for a moment. “And Cayleb? This is a good ending to your story.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, y’all. I’ve never written/posted fanfiction before (the inspiration struck me after the episode because MY GOODNESS the feelings), so I would love to hear any thoughts and comments, positive or negative.
> 
> Disclaimer: this was written in the very early hours of the morning right after the ep aired, so please excuse any glaring grammatical issues or absurd misrepresentations of character. I love each and every character on Critical Role and don’t want thinks to be misconstrued.
> 
> And, just want to say: I don’t think Fjord and Jester WON’T be cute, because they will. And Laura Bailey is a goddess who can do anything. I just think Jester and Caleb would be cuter. So no ship hate please! Love each other <3


End file.
